Destiny Twisted
by Konrad von Selle
Summary: For nearly two thousand years Morgana le Fay has lived in quiet seclusion, watching as the world and her kingdom changed with the times around her. But with the birth of a Child of Destiny and an opportunity arising to remake her birthright in her image, it seems the time has come for the fallen princess of ancient Britain to return and reclaim what was once hers.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Destiny Twisted

Prologue

The house was largely in ruins, much of the front blown out as though by an explosion within. Much of the damage was to an upper corner of the house, the jagged hole in the structure exposing the shattered ruins of what was likely a child's bedroom.

Small fires flickered here and there, paper and cloth smoldered, punctuated by the groans of overstressed wood and every so often the sound of crumbling masonry. Though it was night, it would not be long before what had been done to the house drew the attention of the authorities, both mundane and magical alike. The wards which protected both the house and hidden it from the eyes of the ungifted had been torn down even before the house had been destroyed, and both the sound of the explosion and the house's condition in the aftermath were certain to have drawn attention.

And attention bred more attention.

Space seemed to _twist_ in front of the house, and then tore before smoothing out, with a beautiful young woman in an anachronistic dress of black belted and trimmed in red now standing on the front yard. Piercing violet eyes seemed to glow with inner fire as she stared at the ruined house in front of her, and after a few moments of regarding what lay before her stepped forward.

Quickly crossing the yard, a gesture of a finger blew the door – already hanging by a hinge – clear and allowing the woman inside unhindered. Every movement she made gave the impression of arrogant expectation, backed by a veiled confidence and assurance that no matter who or what stood in her way, she would simply trample it underfoot without a care.

She ignored the corpse of the man by the stairs, the father of the family who had given his life in a brave but fruitless resistance against the upstart lordling that had invaded his home. Stepping over the corpse, the woman ascended the staircase quickly but elegantly, and making her way through the landing swept towards where a child could be heard wailing.

There was another body in the room, that of a young woman with hair the color of fire. The living woman was tempted to simply ignore her, but a single taste of the lingering magic in the air made her reconsider.

Perfect lips curled into a smile. " _So,_ " she thought. " _Your life for your child's? A simple but effective and powerful protection, tied to your shared blood and the lingering maternal humors…but, it is not foolproof. Far from it…but, I suppose you are worthier of respect than most among what pass for the gifted these days._ "

Fingers twitched and the dead woman's wand flew from the ground into the living woman's hand. She viewed it with some distaste, emblematic as it was of the degradation of the practitioners of the Art, but it might prove useful.

There were many rituals which could have resulted in the effects invoked by the fallen woman, and while rituals did not usually require 'wands' the weakness of modern mages meant it was likely the woman had used her wand to perform the needed ritual. The living woman caressed the wand she was holding in her fingers, and slid it into a pocket before making for the crib.

It was ultimately academic, and as curious as she was she would have plenty of time to identify the ritual later on. It was not as if it was necessary.

Yes, just as there was no fortress or warrior that was truly invincible, there was no protective spell or ritual that was truly foolproof.

As she gazed down into the crib, the year-old child cried and wailed from the pain of the bloody wound on his forehead, and no doubt from the sound and light of the explosion caused by the lordling's backfiring curse and subsequent destruction. The woman regarded the wailing child silently for a moment, and then reaching down lifted him up without any difficulty whatsoever.

"Hush now," she said softly, cradling the child in her arms and gently and soothingly shaking him against her bosom. "You will never need fear again, and your destiny will be far greater than you could possibly imagine."

And then the woman's smile faded, twisting into a frown which further twisted into a sneer of disgust. "Phylacteries," she sneered. "How crude."

Lifting a hand, she folded all but her index finger back, and pressed it against the wound. Gaelic fell from her lips too quickly and softly for others to hear, and holding the struggling child gently but firmly, pulled her finger back…and drew out what appeared to be a stream of inky smoke.

Only it wasn't: as it ripped free of the child, it coalesced into a distinct face with glowing red eyes. It howled at the woman, who didn't appear concerned at all, merely looking on with cold disgust as it struggled against the immaterial bonds she had placed on the soul fragment before her.

She made a dismissing gesture, and the howling turned into an agonized, terrified scream as the woman's magic literally snuffed the soul fragment from existence, the inky visage appearing to _tear apart_ into nothingness. The woman turned back to the wailing child, who she continued to cradle against herself until he finally subsided.

"A Child of Destiny," she said softly, taking the child with her as she left the ruined room. "To think that after over a thousand years, one such as you would be born. Now, we can begin anew. We will set things right, you and I. But first, we must become as family, your blood shall be as my blood, and your flesh as of my flesh."

Making her way back down to the ground floor, she raised a curious eyebrow as she spotted a hook-nosed man with lank and greasy hair and clad in black robes rush into the house. He spotted the child in her arms, and raised a wand. "You…!" he began, only to hurled clear through the front wall by a wall of invisible force.

"Know your place, mongrel." The woman said, unhurriedly walking up to him on the front lawn. The man glanced up at her, and foolishly met her eyes.

The woman's lips twitched into a smile at the powerful mental barriers possessed by the man, worthy of the mightiest mages and unexpected of the mages of this day and age. For a few moments he contended with her as an equal, fending off her mental probes, and even striking back a few times, his mental assaults breaking like water against rock against her own mental barriers.

But commendable as it was, it was not enough. The woman's eyes literally glowed with power as she brought the full force of her power to bear, and blew the man's mental barriers to pieces in but a moment, sending him reeling in agony to the ground as she ripped through his mind.

 _A dark-haired boy and a flame-haired girl played in a park as autumn leaves danced in the breeze…_

… _the boy and girl sat in a train compartment as four other boys thuggishly and uncouthly burst in…_

… _the boy sat down at a table while looking across a vast hall to where the girl sat three tables away…_

… _the boy struggled to fend off the four boys from earlier only to be overwhelmed by their numbers…_

… _the boy huddled with others in a dimly-lit room, whispering of one who called himself Lord Voldemort and how they would make themselves great in his service…_

… _the boy and the girl argued in a quiet corner over the former's perceived choice of friends…_

… _the boy laughed as a girl was sent flying down the corridor, striking the walls and ceiling with her head again and again…_

… _the boy hung upside down in the air next to a lake, watching as the girl walked away and a bespectacled boy moved to expose him in public…_

… _the boy knelt before a hideously-deformed lordling, snarling defiantly at the pain as he was branded with a slave mark on one arm…_

… _the boy – now a man – sneered behind a silver mask as he tore lives from helpless victims…_

… _the man listened behind a door, as a seer made a prophecy to his lord's greatest enemy…_

… _the man begged before an old man in a forest, pleading for the love of his life in exchange for anything and everything…_

The woman laughed, the rich notes echoing in the air as the man shuddered on the ground before her. "Severus Snape," she said. "You make for an interesting character. Certainly we are who we choose to be, but it seems that fate has narrowed the choices you were offered until you had simply no choice but to choose as you had. I've no doubt you'd have chosen differently given a different set of choices, but do not fear: I do not think the choices you've made were incorrect. You simply had an unworthy and pathetic excuse for a lord to swear allegiance to."

The woman gestured, and Snape gasped as invisible fingers grasped around his neck lifting him into the air and drew him close. "You may yet be of use to me and my son in the future." She said. "Fear not: your reward shall be great, far greater than that little lordling could ever have given you. But, I sense that you will not serve willingly. It matters not, for you will serve regardless, just as you will be rewarded regardless."

The woman pressed her fingers against Snape's forehead, and the man screamed in agony as the woman sealed his memories and imposed a geis upon him that he would bear until if and when she saw fit to release him. But before the spell could be completed, a single, terrible, foreign thought ripped into his mind, searing the name of his new mistress into his soon-unknowing mind.

 _Princess Morgana le Fay, daughter of Duke Gorlois and Queen Igraine, and half-sister to King Arthur Pendragon._

And then darkness descended, the man falling unconscious as Morgana teleported him back to his home at Spinner's End. As a distant roaring in the sky began to be heard, she glanced down at the child in her arms, Morgana smiled.

"Come," she said, likewise teleporting herself back to her home of nearly two thousand years. "We have much to do, my son. Much to do, before you can assume your destiny."

* * *

A/N

This will have irregular updates mind, since it's really just born of a fleeting question in my head: what if Morgana le Fay raises Harry Potter for one reason or another.

Well, I'll see how far I can take this and how well it'll be received, though note I'll be taking _some_ liberties with regard to Morgana's character, given we know so little of her incarnation in the Harry Potter franchise. Apart from classic Arthurian myth, I'll also draw on popular fiction's depictions of her, with some bits from DC and maybe from Type-Moon. Though whenever possible, I'll stick to Arthurian myth.


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